January 2013

In the 1980s, everyone had a pane of glass leant against their house. It was usually about 2ft by 1 ft, and roughly coated with white paint on one side. No-one knew how it got there and it served no purpose, other than to keep the rain off the Nescafe jar with two paint brushes sitting in white spirit that had been left behind it.

It was behind such a pane of glass that I deposited the last bottle of Cinzano I was acquainted with. It was full. Four bottles of Newcastle Brown and Dare accompanied me into the party. A while later I returned to the pane of glass to rescue that bottle of Cinzano. I am not convinced that any of the food I had eaten in the previous 24 hours remained inside me by the time I fell asleep. A brief waft of the smell of white spirit is still enough to make me a little queasy.

Cinzano has not passed my lips since. It, like Tequila and pretty much any drink that ends in ‘a’, is something you get through-the-nose-sick on once and once only.

Some years later, I have to tell you that you should have a cheeky bottle of it tucked away. You need it not as a splendidly effective purgative or nasal decongestant, but to go in this lunch. You can by other pricier dry vermouths, but Cinzano will do perfectly well. Why does it work? Because, apart from adding a sherryish edge, it is, as Leonard said, suffused with herbs and spices from four continents including marjoram, thyme and a couple of dozen unknown aromatic herbs work beautifully with the eggs and liver.

I like crunch. Along with the possession of a penis, a fundamental misunderstanding of the rules of ball sports and a secret feeling that you couldabinsomebody at one of them, it is a defining characteristic of the male. The combination of soft scrambled eggs and creamy liver screams TOAST, but bear with me – it is proper lovely as it is.

There are only three things to remember when cooking this: cook the eggs very slowly, off the heat most of the time, stirring constantly; don’t overcook the liver; and DON’T OVERCOOK THE LIVER. There should be some pinkness inside, as I’m sure somebody quite famous once said.

Heat 2/3 of the oil and all the butter in a frying pan until fairly hot and fry the onions, browning them slightly without letting them get too soft. Add the livers and the sage and cook the livers for two minutes on each side. Pour the eggs in, stir and as the eggs just start to cook, pour in the vermouth, and turn the heat off – the eggs will cook just enough in the heat of the pan. Stir a few times as it cooks, then add the oil (and a little parmesan and/or chives if you fancy). Season with salt and pepper, as you like.

And don’t even sniff the Cinzano if you want to keep the food down. You may play Dare while you’re making it if you fancy.

I’m not sure if this is the first in a series of recipes to go with magnificent 80s albums, or recipes to overcome richly deserved booze phobias. Almost certainly neither.

The days are lengthening, and we aren’t far away from the start of what can only be a better growing season than 2012s. In a few short weeks spring will arrive, the soil will warm and we get our gardens and allotments back from the mirk and the damp. In anticipation, we have a seed sale.